


Hankcon Kinktober |or| 31 ways to fuck an Android

by Trash_For_Ships



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Being Walked In On, Blowjobs, Body Worship, Chapters are individually tagged for content as well, Cock Worship, Cum Inflation, Dildos, Handcuffs, Kinktober, Lap Dances, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Fixation, Prostitution, Toys, Walking In On Someone, cumflation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-07-24 11:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16174049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_For_Ships/pseuds/Trash_For_Ships
Summary: Welcome to my own circle of halloween hell. Here's the list of prompts for each day:1. Toys2. Mutual Masturbation3. Oral Fixation4. Prostitution (Eden Club AU, anyone?)5. Cum inflation (No idea how I’m gonna do this one, but it’s my biggest kink so I’m gonna)6. Cock Worship7. Lap dance8. Bondage9. Pet play10. Cock Warming11. Butt plugs (Vibration optional)12. Facesitting13. Intercrural Sex14. Titfucking15. Gags16. Fuck Machine17. Asphyxiation18. Uniforms19. Lingerie20. Public Sex21. Double Penetration22. Aphrodisiac23. Threesomes24. Edgeplay (Abuse of Android Stamina)25. Somnophilia26. Body Modification (Includes Android cock)27. Glory Hole28. Gunplay ;)29. Overstimulation30. Dirty Talk31. Happy Fuckoween! Free day - Commenters decide! (No repeats please)Chapters will be individually tagged for content. Be sure to comment and vote for what you'd like to see on Fuckoween! Cross-posted on tumblr @the-crowing-of-a-kaz.





	1. Day 1 - Toys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content tags: Toys, dildos in particular, walking in on someone, being walked in on, masturbation, blowjobs. Enjoy~

It’s not everyday that Hank comes home to find the house relatively quiet anymore. Since Connor moved in with him, having no place to go after the Revolution, there’s usually some commotion or other, like Connor trying to bake cookies with some help from Sumo, or Connor finding his ancient vacuum cleaner and trying to use it.

 

So, when Hank gets home late one Thursday night after finishing up a case for the bureaucracy, he’s surprised to find that most of the lights are off, Sumo is waiting for him at the door, looking for all the world like he needs a walk, and Connor is nowhere to be seen.

 

Hank shucks off his coat and tosses it on the couch, walks into the kitchen, expecting to find Connor sitting with his back to the door, his LED spinning, deep in thought, which is why he didn’t greet Hank when he opened the front door. Instead, Hank finds a plate of food covered in plastic wrap sitting on the kitchen table, and not much else. Connor is still nowhere to be seen.

 

Hank is a damn good detective, but he also gets paranoid. It’s a human thing, and right now his gut is telling him that something is wrong, and Hank is already running through scenarios in his mind, looking for signs of a struggle, deep blue stains, anything. He doesn’t reach for his gun, not just yet, he’s still got half a house to search.

 

Hank glances down the hallway and is surprised to see the lamp in his bedroom is lit, the door open and light spilling out into the corridor. Hank slowly, carefully, makes his way down the hallway, keeping his footsteps as light as he can. It doesn’t help that Sumo is click-clacking his merry way down the hallway with him.

 

As Hank gets closer, he hears strange, strange sounds. It sounds like...slurping? What the hell-

 

Was that a _moan?_

 

With that, Hank just fucking _has_ to know what the fuck is going on. He steps up to the door, looks inside, and was _not_ fucking prepared for what he sees.

 

There’s Connor, brazen as anything, laying on Hank’s bed, only wearing Hank’s Detroit Police Academy hoodie, sucking off a toy. Not just any toy, but a fucking bright blue dildo, disappearing past his lips into a mouth that seemed to be _leaking_ some clear lubricant.

 

And Connor sounds like he’s fucking _enjoying himself_.

 

Connor’s cheeks are hollowed as he descends once again, tongue peaking out past his bottom lip, slick and shiny with that fluid that drips down towards the base of the toy. He moans, _really_ moans, and it’s muffled by the toy halfway down his throat but it makes Hank’s heart race anyway. Connor’s eyes are closed in concentration, and his LED is bright pink at his temple.

 

Connor slides back up, one hand steadying the base of the toy, the other out of sight, and Hank can’t even follow that thought because he’s about to have a heart attack in his own damn hallway.

 

Hank is so unstable that he has to take a step back to steady himself, and it’s the sound of his foot hitting the floor that finally makes Connor snap his eyes open, mouth pausing just at the tip of the light blue cock. His light bleeds from pink to deep red.

 

Connor moves so fast he’s almost a blur, and by the time Hank blinks, Connor has completely repositioned himself, sitting up in Hank’s bed, one hand pulling the hem of the sweatshirt down over his lap, the other behind his back and that damn toy nowhere in sight.

 

His light is still red, red, red.

 

“H-Hello, Hank,” Connor says, and that tiny stutter as his vocal processor recalibrates or whatever is enough to give him away, without the LED, or the blue blush on his cheeks, the way his eyes dart from Hank to anywhere else and back again.

 

“Hey, Connor,” Hank replies levely, because he’s been around the block a few times and can hide an erection when he needs to.

 

“Whatcha got there?”

 

The reaction is instantaneous. Connor’s back stiffens, his eyes widen and that blue blush darkens even further.

 

“Nothing.” And just like that, the entire production is gone, Connor’s face is clear, his eyes focused, his LED is sky blue, like Hank didn’t just walk in on him doing something incredibly fucking dirty in Hank’s own bed.

 

And Hank is _not_ having any of that shit tonight, no sir.

 

“Bullshit. I saw, Connor.” Hank takes another step in, arms crossed over his chest, trying to keep his heartbeat calm in case that prick was scanning him. That, and Hank wasn’t quite sure if he was angry or aroused yet.

 

“Saw what?” Connor is the fucking picture of innocence, aside from the hand still suspiciously behind his back, and the growing wet spot on his hoodie. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lieutenant.”

 

Hank sighs. Oh well.

 

“Fine, whatever. Sumo, up!”

 

With that, Sumo yeets himself onto the bed, and onto Connor, with such force that both of them topple over. Sumo starts licking Connor’s face, and it’s just enough of a distraction for Hank to reach a hand out and grab the toy from Connor’s loose (wet) grip.

 

Hank tries not to think about how sticky the damn thing is in his hand, how slick it is. He does not think for one second about how that mouth would feel on his own cock. Instead, he dangles it in front of Connor’s face and watches as that light slips from blue to yellow to red, his face from confused to shocked, to blushing.

 

“Ha-Hank, please-“

 

“Oh, please _what_ , Connor? Please don’t touch my sex toy that I was using in your bed?!” It comes out angry but Hank is more perplexed than anything, question after question coming to his mind. How did Connor even get this damn thing? Where has he been keeping it?

 

Does he have more?

 

Connor bites his lip, looks away. His hands fidget nervously with Sumo’s fur. Sumo, for his part, leans into the touch, blissfully oblivious to the tension in the room, just trying to enjoy being up on the bed while he can.

 

“I...I wanted to try it out…” Connor finally says, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of them.

 

And that has Hank fucking speechless. He feels like he’s being punched in the gut when Connor continues, bashful but honest.

 

“I- I’ve never done anything like this, and- and you likely wouldn’t show me or do anything with me, and I can’t do it on myself, but- but I wanted to try. So, I bought myself that, and-“ Connor cuts off with a gulp as he eyed the toy still in Hank’s hand, eyes flicking back and forth again.

 

Hank has completely spaced out. It’s one thing to admit that you bought yourself a sex toy to practice blowjobs on. It’s another to say you considered practicing with your roommate and (WORK) partner first.

 

Well. Hank’s always been an opportunist.

 

“You won’t be needing that anymore,” Hank says as he tosses he toy back on the bed, reaching a hand out for Connor’s shoulder when he turns to go after it. Connor stops short at the touch, turning back to Hank slowly, his light putting on a bright yellow lightshow.

 

“Hank…?”

 

“You’re going to practice with me instead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, I love to tease. It'll be a theme this month. See you lovelies soon~ Be sure to vote in the comments for day 31!


	2. Day 2 - Mutual Masturbation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor invites Hank to join him for a little...Hanky Panky.
> 
> Content: First time masturbating, being walked in on (again), mutual masturbation (of a sort)

Connor is sitting on the couch when the thought comes to him. He’d been mindlessly reviewing details for a case in his head, letting the Detroit Gears game play on the TV in the background for white noise, when his thoughts suddenly shifted. Before Connor knew it, he was thinking about last night- Thinking about Hank.

 

Thinking about Hank, about Hank coming home and finding him “practicing”, about how Hank had tossed his toy away and said that Connor could practice on him instead. Thinking about how Connor had knelt on the bed and sucked Hank off until he orgasmed on his substance analyzer, about how Connor loved every second of it.

 

They hadn’t talked about it today, not even mentioned last night or the fact that they woke up in the same bed this morning, rather than Connor on the couch and Hank locked away in his room, or about how Connor had to empty his (full) sample container and clean it out that morning before work. They hadn’t said a word about it at all.

 

Hank himself was currently out on a walk with Sumo, which was good, because Connor looked down and found that his arousal protocols had activated, and he currently had an erection. Connor felt heat rising in his cheeks in his new-found embarrassment, and one hand moved to shove the hem of Hank’s hoodie (which Connor had cleaned) down over his shorts. 

 

Hank could be stubborn, but Connor could be even moreso. 

 

So, he ended the tasks currently causing his problem, then stood up to find something to do while his erection softened. Eventually, after finding the room to be perfectly spotless, Sumo still absent and not begging for pets, Connor settled at the kitchen with Hank’s reading tablet, scrolling through an article about a new VR game that was breaking the mold in the gaming industry, collecting and storing data, but not particularly reading. 

 

Eventually, Connor could waste time with the tablet no more, and he stood up, still casting about for something to do. Part of him wished that he hadn’t finished up the dishes from dinner already, and another part of him despaired that it had been a full 20 seconds and Connor’s little “problem” hadn’t sorted itself out yet. Perhaps he would need to run a full diagnostic later…

 

Frustrated and huffy, Connor took himself down the hall and sat on Hank’s bed (after making it, as a last ditch attempt), wishing that Hank was here. Wishing that he’d stay gone a while longer so  _ this _ wouldn’t be a problem when they went to bed. 

 

_ Would they sleep together again? _

 

Hoping that perhaps entering stasis would help solve at least one of his problems, Connor laid back on the bed, arms crossed resolutely over his chest, and promptly did not enter stasis. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, ignoring the message in his peripherals that stated he had fucking better take care of his erection before he could enter stasis.

 

So, with a resigned breath, Connor shoved a hand into his shorts and boxers, gently wrapped a hand around his leaking cock. Instantly, it feels like something new, something good, like a completed circuit. The feeling makes him suck in a breath to keep his internal temp low and squeeze his hand, and that feels even  _ better _ . He moved his hand tentatively up and down, and it’s like an infinite feedback loop. It’s so easy and it feels so  _ good _ , Connor isn’t exactly sure what he was dreading anymore. 

 

Connor’s hips buck up into his own touch, essentially fucking his own hand, and it’s just as good and he  _ wants _ more. Really,  _ really  _ wants. Finally relaxing against the covers, Connor shoves his shorts and boxers and kicks them all the way off, watching with satisfaction as they fall to the floor near Hank’s closet. 

 

His hand keeps stroking and it feels good, considering he’s never quite done something like this before. He doesn’t really know what to do with his other hand, but when he twists it in his own hair and tugs, it sends a spike of pleasure down his spine and a moan tumbling from his mouth, and he figures that’s a good spot for it. He keeps going, alternating between pulling and tugging, adjusting his grip and strength and anything he could think of.

 

Connor could feel himself drawing closer and closer to an edge, could feel something inside him coil, hot and needy and  _ begging  _ for release, but Connor let out a breath, let go of himself, willed himself away from the precipice. 

 

But Connor couldn’t resist. Before long, his hand was back on his cock, starting slow and then speeding up before dropping back down, playing a desperate game with his body, his programming,  _ himself. _

 

Part of him wanted to stay like this forever, reaching orgasm after orgasm, but savouring each moment of pleasure, each slide of his hand on his shaft.

 

And that’s how he was, nearly 20 minutes later, pace slow and grip tight, one hand in his hair and his eyes screwed shut, when he heard Hank come home. He went still as Hank called out for him, not even breathing, the lack of oxygen exchange driving him closer to overheating. 

 

_ I want him to find me like this. _

 

With that thought overriding every other rational thought, every line of logic, Connor spread his legs and tightening his grip around his cock, let his head fall back against the pillows as he called out “I’m down the hall, Lieutenant!” in a voice that wouldn’t betray his actions. 

 

He didn’t look at the statistics for how probable a successful outcome would be- frankly, Connor didn’t  _ care _ . He wanted Hank to see him like this, open and exposed, he wanted to see how Hank’s heartbeat would race at the sight of him, he  _ wanted _ -

 

He wanted Hank to join him. 

 

Connor heard Hank walk down the hall and his thirium pump leapt at the sound, at the idea of what he was doing, what Hank was about to see, how he would react. 

 

And then Hank turns the corner, and Connor is watching, waiting for the shock, and then- 

 

He gets exactly what he wants.

 

Hank nearly jumps back, a curse on his lips as soon as he can comprehend what he’s seeing. Connor blushes, embarrassment, anxiety and arousal making his core heat. He drags his hand back up his cock, slow and languid, putting on a show.

 

“Good evening, Lieutenant.” His voice drips with innocence, and it takes a lot of effort to keep his tone even as his hand squeezes around his head. 

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Connor,” Hank mutters, having recovered, though only a little bit. He’s holding his face in one (gigantic) hand, other arm crossed, brows furrowed. “How many times am I going to come home to find you jacking it in my bed  _ this week? _ ” It comes out frustrated, but Connor is tracking Hank’s every heartbeat, can clearly see the rush of blood to his groin, and the thought makes him smirk.

 

“I don’t know,  _ Hank _ . Will you join me~?” Already, this is leagues away from last night, but Connor wants this, wants Hank near him, touching him, wants to touch him in return- 

 

Hank rolls his eyes like this is the most predictable thing that’s happened in the past 48 hours, despite the fact that they’ve been some of the most shaky and uncertain in their relationship. “Fuckin’ christ, Connor.” Hank grumbles, but he kicks off his shoes and steps inside anyway. “I swear, the only thing guys your age think about is doin’ stuff like this. 

 

Connor feels a thrill shoot through him at the sight of Hank leaning over him, and he has to take a breath before he can reply. “I don’t know, Lieutenant,” he starts, lips curling into a breathless grin. “But I certainly do have a few ideas in mind.” Connor sits up, lets Hank sit on the bed, awkwardly positioned between Connor’s spread legs. 

 

“Such as…?” Connor can sense Hank’s hesitation and doesn’t want to push too much too soon, but damn it, he wants Hank, wants him  _ bad. _

 

“I want to do what I was doing...with you. At the same time.” And Connor realizes that enthusiasm does not necessarily equate to experience or know-how, and he simply does not have the capacity to run a highly-specialized search right now, no, he wants to be right here for whatever happens.

 

Hank blinks a few times at the suggestion, then speaks, looking Connor dead in the eyes. Connor shivers for another reason than just his arousal, the feel of Hank so near him with no contact. “You wanna jack off both of us at the same time...And...you sure you wanna do that with me…?” 

 

Connor blinks, LED flickering yellow. Then he throws his arms around Hank’s neck and pulls Hank closer, or maybe pulls himself upward, and smashes their lips together with a clumsy eagerness that Connor wants to convey to Hank. “Yes,” He says between their lips, muffled by Hank’s mouth, and then he says it again, just because. 

 

Hank guides Connor to lay back down, following him back down with lips and teeth and tongue, before Connor’s hands find their way down his chest and to the waistband of his pants, and Connor just whines against him, can barely put into words what he wants, what he needs.

 

Hank lets out a breath and Connor knows the dip of his heart rate down to the beat, both of them bundles of nervous energy as Hank shucks down his pants and boxers, revealing his own erection, and Connor’s substance analyzer produces extra analyzation fluid, from the sight of Hank’s cock or from the memory of it between his lips, Connor doesn’t really know. 

 

Instead, he pulls Hank flush with him, twitching when their members touch just the slightest bit. Connor’s hand is between their legs in an instant, wrapping around the both of them, sighing at the feel of the length of Hank’s cock against his own. 

 

Hank sucks in a breath through gritted teeth as Connor starts to move his hand, hands clenching in the sheets near Connor’s head, and Connor pauses immediately, a thousand questions, a thousand apologies on his lips, when Hank simply leans over to open the bedside drawer and pull out a bottle of lube. 

 

“Mind if I start us out, Connor?” Connor can feel the heat rising to his cheeks at the sight of the bottle, see the way Hank smirks at his apparent inexperience. Connor nods, a breathy “yes” spilling from parted lips, eyes tracking Hank’s every movement, the bottle being tossed aside, Hank’s hand, slick and cool with the lube, taking hold of each of them, the experienced way he moves his hand that has Connor chasing that edge within seconds.

 

It’s good, it’s  _ so good _ , so unexpected, and Hank kisses him through it, swallows his moans and whimpers and all manner of sounds he’s never made before. His arms are around Hank’s shoulders again, trying to get as close to them as possible, rocking his hips up into Hank’s touch. 

 

It seems all too sudden, all too soon, as Hank’s tongue pushes into his mouth insistently, he squeezes and Connor locks up, finally shoved over that precipice into the abyss. It’s bliss, it’s heaven, it’s everything going quiet, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own thirium in his ears, all he can feel is Hank on him, around him, everywhere, holding him through it.

 

When Connor, finally, blessedly, comes back down, he’s panting, trying to cool his internals as his own ejaculate cools on Hank’s hoodie. All he can see is Hank looking down at him, worried, but his hand is still there, and Hank is still hard against him.

 

Connor moans and rolls his hips upwards when he realizes this, mind blurry and sparking at the sharp pleasure that almost  _ hurts _ as it races through his systems. 

 

Connor looks Hank in the eyes and pulls him down for another kiss. Between their lips, he whispers, “Don’t stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos, comment, vote, all that jazz. See you tomorrow~


	3. Day 3 - Oral Fixation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Connor realizes that he’s got a thing for using his mouth. Hank wonders if that wasn’t apparent already.
> 
> Content: Pining, Oral fixation, What do you call a blowjob that you give to somebody's hand?

 

It’s the morning of October 3rd, and Connor is sitting at his terminal at work, looking for all the world that he’s focused on casework, when really, all he can think about is the man sitting next to him.

 

Hank is nursing a coffee (black, two sugars) and looking like he’s so tired he could fall asleep at his desk. Connor knows that his exhaustion is likely his fault, and his thoughts turn back to the past two nights, and Connor wonders what exactly might happen tonight. Connor shifts in his seat and and something flutters in his core, different from arousal, like something is attempting to claw its way out from inside him, and Connor thinks the best word to describe it is _anticipation_.

 

The sensation follows him the entire day, past Reed’s teasing about his LED, past an investigation at a residence in southern Detroit that seemed to have the same two attackers and victims, which Connor figured out quite quickly, past a drive across Detroit alone with Hank, chasing a lead that turned out to be a red herring.

 

It’s still fluttering in his non-existent stomach when Hank suggests that they take an early night and go home, to which Connor readily agrees. Home means him and Hank, alone, in blessed privacy with only each other for company. Home means a third night of their little game. Connor smiles and says that yes, he would like to have an early evening as well. He’s not exactly subtle about the look he gives Hank with it, and Connor can clearly see the blush rising on Hank’s already blotchy cheeks.

 

Connor is near ecstatic when they park outside the house, can’t keep the grin off his face as Sumo jumps up to greet them at the door. After bidding a warm welcome to the St. Bernard, Connor makes a beeline for Hank’s hoodie, which is sitting folded neatly on the couch after being washed (again).

 

However-

 

“Oh no you don’t,” Hank says, snatching it away from him before Connor can put it on. Instead, Hank throws it on himself, and Connor feels like pouting, running through scenarios in his mind without replying to Hank. Is this a form of rejection? Does Hank not want him wearing his hoodie anymore- Does Hank not want him at all, doesn’t want their game to continue?

 

Frowning, Connor sits himself down on the couch and crosses his arms, looking at a spot on the carpet and not at Hank, who’s sitting next to him, seemingly completely unbothered by this turn of events. Hank sets a bottle of beer on the coffee table, turns on the TV and throws his arm around Connor’s shoulders and pulls him to his chest.

 

Connor jerks at the movement and falls back, his back pressed against Hank’s chest, warm and snuggly already. Hank’s arm is around his shoulders, loose enough that Connor could pull away if he wanted to, but Connor relaxes into the touch, leaning his head on Hank’s shoulder. It’s domestic, it’s intimate, and it may not be what Connor was hoping for, but he’ll take what he can get. Just being close to Hank is enough to satiate his anticipation and stoke it all over again when Hank adjusts himself, gets comfortable, turns his head to press a kiss to Connor’s cheek.

 

Thirium pump beating above normal levels, Connor needs an outlet for at least some of this and brings his thumb to his mouth, biting at it to relieve some of his stress, give him something to do other than stare straight ahead at the TV and not look at Hank.

 

“Sheesh, Connor, do you always need to have somethin’ to do with that mouth?” Hank asks lightheartedly, then takes another sip of his beer. “Ya look like Sumo when I give him a new tennis ball.”

 

Connor removes his thumb from his mouth when he replies “I think we both already know the answer to that question, Hank.” without a hint of reference to the previous nights’ activities, but Hank took it as a double meaning anyway, snorting before he sets his beer back down on the table. In retaliation, Connor takes Hank’s hand in his off of Hank’s lap, threads their fingers together and brings it up to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of his hand. Hank blushes at the show of affection, his splotchy complexion making it an easy tell, but he didn’t tug his hand away.

 

Thus, Hank and Connor entered a kind of stalemate. Hank kissed Connor’s cheek in return, but turned back to the TV and didn’t initiate anything after that. Connor sat next to Hank, cuddled close, holding hands, fully clothes. And this, of course, was fine, and Connor liked it, but he still wanted...something. Something _more_.

 

So Connor lifted their hands again and kissed each one of Hank’s knuckles. Connor felt rather than scanned or analyzed Hank’s sharp intake of breath as he continued to pepper Hank’s hand with small pecks.

 

Hank seemed to have had enough, as he pulled his hand away from Connor’s lips, from his fingers, and Connor whined high in his vocal processor at the loss of Hank’s warmth. Would Hank deny him this simple pleasure as well?

 

Instead, Hank took hold of Connor’s hips and guided him to move, to sit on Hank’s lap, and Connor went willingly, settling himself so that he could feel the press of Hank’s growing arousal against his thigh.

 

“Hank,” Connor breathed, wrapping his arms around Hank’s neck, looking him in the eye, wanting to be as close as possible. “I want you,” He said, desperately honest.

 

“Christ, Connor.” Hank sighed, but his eyes were smiling, wanting. Hank trailed his fingertips up from Connor’s hip, up his chest, tracing his neck, to cup his cheek, to run his thumb over Connor’s lower lip. “I want you too.”

 

Connor blushed and his heart beat faster. He felt so alive- he _was_ so alive.

 

“I’m yours,” Connor whispered, then kissed the pad of Hank’s thumb, like he had his own. “And you’re mine.”

 

“Fuck, Con, I am.” There was a small smile on Hank’s face, and something unnameable in his eyes. Connor’s heart swelled and impulsively, he took Hank’s thumb into his mouth, sucking at it gently. Hank jolted, but didn’t withdraw his thumb, instead, he dipped it deeper and Connor’s lips closed around the base, mouthing at it gently. Hank let out the breath he’d been holding, and Connor could feel the way his erection twitched with interest in his sweats.

 

“What the fuck- Shit, Con, this shouldn’t be this hot-” Hank was rambling, words loose and wanting. Connor moaned in agreement, eyelids fluttering/ It was like sucking Hank’s cock, but different - a good different. Hank began stroking his thumb against the roof of his mouth, along his tongue to the tip. Connor’s mouth, heavily loaded with sensors and analyzers, ever sensitive, reveled in the treatment, wanted more and more.

 

Hank withdrew his thumb and a strand of analytical fluid connected it and Connor’s parted lips. Hank cursed just as Connor moaned at the sight. Hank met Connor’s eyes as Hank drew closer yet, transfixed.

 

“This do anything for you?” Hank asked, voice almost breathless and laced with lust.

 

“Yes, Hank, please-” Connor wasn’t even sure what he was asking for. Asking for more of Hank’s fingers in his mouth, his other hand around Connor’s cock, something, _anything_.

 

Hank pulled Connor to him and their lips met with desperation, tongues twisting together almost immediately. Connor’s hands dropped to Hank’s lap, rubbing at the bulge he found there. Hank sucked in a breath between their parted lips, and Hank pushed Connor back on his lap, guided his hands back around his neck.  
  
“I wanna get you off, Connor,” Hank murmured, as one hand moved to deftly undo the button and zip on Connor’s pants, and the other pushed his right index finger into Connor’s mouth.

 

Connor shivered at the sensation, running his tongue along the underside of Hank’s finger and sucking as best he could, eyes half-lidded and needing, needing more. Hank gave it to him in the form of another finger, another experienced handjob that made him see stars. But it was really the oral stimulation that brought Connor over the edge, the feel and weight and taste of Hank’s fingers in his mouth, four of them now, filling his mouth and muffling his moans. One errant twitch, one squeezing stroke, one blissful moan and Connor was folding like a house of cards, trembling in Hank’s grasp, begging, pleading with himself to let this moment last forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I think it’s safe to say that from here we descend from porn WITH plot to porn WITHOUT plot, which I know you’ve all been waiting for, myself included. I guess I just had to get these ideas out of the way first before we get to the good stuff. From here on out, the stories will likely not be chronological. Are you guys hyped for tomorrow~? See you then~!


	4. Day 4 - Prostitution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Hank’s a regular at the Eden Club, and the android called Connor is his favorite plaything. (Eden Club AU)
> 
> Tags: Prostitution, dirty talk, happy endings (for something of this sort.)

Hank Anderson has never taken an android back to his place before. 

 

Before, it’s always been in back alleyways and in the red-lit rooms of the Eden Club, but he’s never invited one home. Well, invited isn’t the right word- “Paid for an escort” is more like it. To be honest, it’s something he’s thought about for a while, but never followed through with.

 

But tonight, he’s willing to pay the extra fee and have his favorite little android sent over in a cab at 9:30 pm, and Hank spends most of his afternoon cleaning the house. Though he knows that Connor is an android and probably doesn’t give a damn, he supposes he still wants the place to look nice for “company”. Sumo even gets a thorough brushing and a chew toy to keep him busy while Hank is  _ entertaining  _ his guest. 

 

There’s something about Connor that makes Hank want to do all these stupid things. Like clean his house like he’s inviting Connor over for dinner, and not an at-home business transaction. Like kiss every one of those freckles sprinkled across Connor’s back and neck and face, trace constellations with his fingertips and give him hickies that Hank knows won’t last, not on the android’s skin that doesn’t bruise or dip or bleed like a human’s does...

 

Like entertaining thoughts of purchasing Connor and having him all to himself. 

 

Hank’s got the money to do it, after all- being an early investor in Cyberlife’s efforts had paid back well, but Hank had only had an android once, and that was years before, and not something he likes to dwell on. 

 

But Connor...Connor’s something else. Something special. Enough so that Hank wants to hold him fast and not let go until he’s got answers to everything, the next winning lottery numbers, why the universe came to be, and how Connor’s ass looks so damn good when it’s split open by Hank’s cock.

 

It never takes them long to get to the main event, and Hank’s grateful for it, though he wouldn’t mind a bit of pillowtalk now and then. Then again, Connor knows him well enough by now to know what Hank wants, what Hank  _ needs _ him to do when he’s summoned. And Hank figures that’s good enough for tonight. 

 

It is most  _ certainly _ good enough for tonight, Hank decides, when Connor steps into his bedroom, already naked, hands roaming every inch of Hank they can reach. They fall onto the bed and Hank already knows that he wants Connor to ride him into the mattress. There’s something raw, almost primal here, that there’s never been anywhere else. Hank doesn’t have to worry about someone coming in unexpectedly, doesn’t have to tell Connor to keep it down just in case the walls are thin enough at the Eden Club for someone to be listening. It’s sweet privacy, it’s knowing that Connor is his for the entire night, and damned if they aren’t going to fall asleep in this bed after they give the boxspring a run for it’s money.

 

They start with Hank laid back against the pillows, Connor teasing him just enough to make Hank sigh, hands reaching for the android to pull him closer, chests touching and breaths mingling. Hakn knows Connor doesn’t need it, but he likes too- Hank knows Connor rather well at this point too.  

 

Connor straddles Hank’s waist, Hank’s cock pressed against the cleft of Connor’s ass, rubbing, grinding, just enough to be not enough. It’s always a paradox with Connor, and Hank loves it. 

 

Hank guides his cock into that warm, wet hole without much prelude, kissing Connor as two hands move to grab at his ass, slide him down so their hips meet and slot together like they always do. Connor groans into his mouth, silicone tongue impossibly soft against Hank’s, hands twisting in his hair, tugging gently. Connor’s hips begin to rock, Connor’s cock jutting against Hank’s stomach, his cock rubbing at Connor’s inner walls, searching for that delightful little spot that always has Connor a moaning mess. Hank finds it quick, experience guiding him to the right angle, that spot that has little bumps on it as extra incentive for Hank, not that he needs any prompting. Connor presses himself to Hank, hands roaming every inch they can, clenching tight around the intrusion.

 

“Haaaaank,” Connor moans, panting already, cheeks flushed a periwinkle blue. He grinds his cock against Hank, pushes his hips further down, a wicked grin taking over his face. “Hurry up and fuck me like you mean it~”  

 

Hank gets the message loud and clear. 

 

Hank growls and rolls both of them over, pressing Connor flat to the mattress, getting on top of him and beginning to pound into him with a ferocious want. Connor moans underneath him and his fingers flex, and this is what Hank loves about their little trysts, their time together- they both enjoy it. Hank can tell, can see his LED flickering from that sky blue to deep crimson, that professional facade breaking and falling away, asking,  _ telling _ Hank what he wants, and Hank will give it to him, or Connor will take it for himself. Connor has no problem with handcuffing Hank, pinning him down and taking exactly what he wants from him, and Hank never has any objections. 

 

Hank knows that androids are meant to take orders, not give them- he’s invested his modest fortune on that simple truth.  But with Connor, he’s fine with it, he wants to see how far Connor could take this, see all of what he wants, what he needs, wants to give him everything, no holds barred. 

 

Connor throws his head back and cries out when Hank begins stroking his weeping cock, the tip of his cock still finding that precious little spot. Hank leans close, so close that they’re sharing breaths, and watches each second of how Connor breaks down with each thrust, how this “machine” becomes something so human, so alive.

 

Connor opens his eyes, meets his gaze, and Hank’s hands and his hips still, wrapped around his cock and still buried deep inside him. Connor sighs, and Hank can see the want swirling in those chocolate eyes, the simple need clear on his face. How could anyone call him an unfeeling machine after witnessing this, after seeing the pleasure (and something else) written across his face?

 

Connor moans loudly, speakers almost beginning to fuzz with static, and Hank watches as this picture of perfection comes undone underneath him, spellbound. Connor comes down from his high quickly, more of that opaque lubricant on his heaving chest, and Hank knows that this is only the first of many tonight, and revels in the thought alone. 

  
  
  


Hank isn’t surprised when he sees the payment amount on his credit report when he looks at his tablet the morning after. His still-sore thighs twinge and he knows it was worth every penny.

 

Hank is, however, rather surprised when he sees a note sitting on his kitchen table. It’s about 8:30 and Connor has already departed, but he’s left a little something in his wake. The post-it note stuck to his table reads as such: 

  
  
_ I had a fun time last night, Hank.  _

_ I’d like to come and see you again. I mean that. _

_ Yours, Connor. <3 _

 

The next time Hank goes to see Connor a short while later, he’s told by the staff that Connor isn’t available tonight, something about being in the shop for repairs, and if Hank would like to book another android. Hank declines and goes home, only to find Connor shivering on his front porch, still only clad in his Eden Club boxers. Hank, alarmed and surprised, sweeps Connor inside and gets the poor boy some proper clothes and a blanket, preening like a concerned mother. Or Daddy.  

 

Hank can’t help but ask. “Connor, what happened?” Connor takes a breath, bites his lip, and then looks Hank in the eye, blushing, looking...bashful? 

 

“I think your dick made me a deviant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Hmm, I feel like I could have done better with this one. Anyway, guess who is hype hYPE HYPE FOR TOMORROW~?! Can’t wait to see what you all think~ Have a wonderful day, lovelies!


	5. Day 5 - Cum Inflation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Hank helps Connor explore a new kink of his. (REVERSE AU)
> 
> Tags: Preparation (mention of, not graphic), Cum Inflation, Butt Plugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Special thanks to Anon's comment on Day 3 for giving me the idea of working with the Reverse AU for this prompt! Though, tbh, I’d still love to see canon Hank on the receiving end of this treatment- Another day, perhaps. Enjoy~! (I know I will~)

Connor and Hank are just getting to the “heavy petting” portion of the night when Hank suddenly pulls away from Connor’s lips, leans back on the couch. Connor sat up from underneath him, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

 

“Is something wrong, Hank?” Connor asked, arousal shifting to embarrassment when he found Hank staring intently at his body. 

 

“Not particularly,” Hank responded, his eyes tracing lower and lower down Connor’s body, stopping at Connor’s abdomen for a moment before settling at the bulge in Connor’s jeans. Connor shifted under Hank’s inquisitive gaze.

 

“So...What is it?”

 

Hank met his gaze and smirked, and Connor knew that mischievous look well. “You remember the other night?” 

 

Connor knew  _ exactly _ which “other night” Hank was talking about, and Connor didn’t want to mention it ever again. Connor had said some  _ interesting _ things in the heat of the moment, that delicious pleasure that loosened his lips, and after they’d finished, Hank had wanted to discuss it with that same goddamn smirk on his face.

 

“What about it?” Connor huffed, crossing his arms, not liking at all where this was going.

 

“Nothing,” Hank answered cryptically, still looking at Connor like he was breakfast, lunch and dinner. Hank stood up and pulled Connor up with him, leaning in to steal a kiss. “You wanna go get prepared, baby~?”

 

Connor rolled his eyes, despite the fact that he was blushing, already walking towards the bathroom. “Yeah, yeah. You always say it so weird-” Connor cuts himself off with a yelp as Hank slaps his ass on his way past. 

  
  
  


Connor shuts the bathroom door behind him, just shy of slamming it. He groans to himself as he hears Hank chuckle behind the door. He tries to get his nerves to settle as he strips and throws his clothes on the bathroom floor, starts doing what he needs to. Part of him wishes that he didn’t have to deal with doing this every time he and Hank wanted to do something (Most days, Hank prefers anal to blowjobs or basically anything else. Something about his sexy ass.) But hey, Connor’s got the process down so that it takes about 15 minutes all told, so that’s something.

 

A little while later, preparations completed, Connor meanders into his bedroom, where, sure as hell, Hank is sitting with his back to the headboard and his tie loosened. Hank knows Connor finds that look hot, especially compared to Connor’s current state of undress, and when the android pats his thighs, Connor is on him in a second. Astride Hank’s lap, Connor presses their chests together, grinds just the barest bit down on Hank’s clothed erection. Connor grins when Hank smirks up at him with lust in those bright blue eyes, and Connor pulls him closer by the tie and their lips meet, and it’s all downhill from there. 

 

Connor ground down on Hank’s lap, licking at his partner’s lips Hank’s hands drifted to grab handfuls of Connor’s ass, and Connor sucked in a breath between their open mouths. Connor’s always been vocal about what he wants, and Hank loves to oblige him.

 

“Hank…C’mon…”

 

“C’mon  _ what _ , Detective? I require specific input to make the accurate and efficient decisions.”

 

Connor huffed, tired of Hank playing coy when they both wanted to get to the main event.

 

“Fuck me, Hank, that’s an order-” Connor snaps, but goes quiet when he sees Hank with a bottle of lube in one hand, the other snaking down the back of his waistband. 

 

The process is rushed, but Connor is too eager to take it slow tonight, and Hank seems to have a vested interest in being sheathed inside of him as soon as he can.

 

It’s not long before Connor is seating himself on Hank’s cock, groaning at the paradoxical feeling of Hank’s warmed cock and cool, slick lube. Hank hardly has any patience at all tonight, and lifts Connor up and down on his cock, manhandling him. 

  
  


Hank flips Connor over, and Connor gets the wind knocked out of him by the sudden switch, and Hank is hoisting his hips up to place a pillow under him, presumably for a better angle, and Connor is only beginning to think that it’s odd that he  _ can _ still think this late in the evening these days when Hank lines up again and plunges back into him, and all rational thought flies out the window once more as Hank fucks him into the mattress in earnest. 

 

“C’mon baby, I wanna see you cum for me with your belly full-” Connor cuts Hank off with a cry, hips jerking, tears beginning to well in the corners of his eyes. It’s all so fucking much, and Hank is fucking him with a promise of more, and Connor might just die if Hank’s planning what Connor thinks he’s planning. 

 

Hank keeps going with that inhuman speed and strength, one huge hand holding Connor’s hips steady, moving with his own thrusts and pulling Connor back down on his dick, the other around the base of Connor’s own cock, effectively limiting when Connor can cum. Connor doesn’t care, he’s still almost there from the treatment Hank is giving him, pounding into him like Hank is chasing his own end first, for once. Connor’s gut twists at the thought of cumming while he’s filled up with Hank’s cum, and the moan is out of his mouth before he can stop it, and he’s babbling now, begging-

 

“Haaaaaaaaaank, oh, oh,  _ fuck _ , Hank-! Oh sweet fuck, please, please, Hank, please, cum inside me, please, God, fuck, please fill me up- ah--! Fuck me silly, fuck me stupid,  _ fill me with your cum, Hank!!! _ ” 

 

Hank groans and Connor can actually fucking  _ feel _ Hank twitch inside him, and then- 

 

It’s not slow or soft this time, it’s intense, overwhelming. Connor can feel every heavy spurt of Hank’s cum inside him, painting his insides white, and it  _ doesn’t fucking stop _ . Connor can feel it begin to shift inside him, impossibly, and the feeling makes Connor thrash in pleasure. None of it leaks out, Hank’s cock is too thick and Connor is tight like a vice around him. 

 

Just when Connor feels like he can’t take anymore, Hank begins pumping his hand around his weeping shaft, still balls deep and spurting inside him, and Connor fucking  _ screams _ . His own orgasm makes him see stars, and the sounds that come out of his mouth seem to only spur Hank on, Hank crowds into him, pressing their hips together as far as he can, and Connor can just barely tell that Hank’s eyes are locked on his abdomen. He looks down himself, struggling to keep his eyes open, and-

 

And his own stomach has begun to bulge out, just the barest little bit, and the sight, the  _ feel _ of it, knowing that Hank is still inside him, still filling him up,  _ filling him up with cum _ \- 

 

Connor sees white, back arching and eyes screwing shut as his orgasm strikes through him, setting every nerve alight. 

 

Eventually, much to Connor’s despair, the flow slows, then stops altogether. Hank pulls out of him, despite Connor’s weak protests, his trembling legs around Hank’s waist, but pillow is still under his hips, and Hank is angling him upward with one huge hand, the other reaching for something on the nightstand- 

 

Connor’s glassy eyes widen as he realizes what it is- It’s the largest butt plug he owns, and Hank is smirking at him again. Hank teases the rim of Connor’s gaping hole with the tip of the plug, using it to the little bit of cum that’s dripped out back inside, the plug following close behind. 

 

Despite the fact that Hank just fucked him harder than ever before, Connor still jerks, tenses at the width of the thing, the cool metal against heated, sensitive flesh. His gaping hole spasms around it, but Hank keeps pushing, slowly, slowly, and trembles until the flare is fully inside him, and the teal-jeweled end is seated snug between his cheeks. 

 

Hank rubs a hand over Connor’s swollen belly, and Connor moans at the feel of so much inside him still. Hank helps to pull him upright, and Connor shakes at the sight of it. Hank kisses him soft, tells him he did so good, looks so beautiful like this. His spent cock twitches between his legs, but Connor knows that he just can’t go again tonight- This is enough for one night.

 

In the back of his mind, Connor knows there’s always tomorrow. 


	6. Day 6 - Cock Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor gets a new attachment, and Hank helps him take it for a spin.
> 
> Includes: Depictions of switching out robot dicks, Hank and Connor being huge saps, and blowjobs.

Connor can’t fucking  _ take _ this anymore.

 

It all started when his new attachment arrived in the mail earlier today, all done up in Cyberlife blue and sitting on the kitchen table. Hank was having his breakfast and eyeing it suspiciously, pointing his spoon at it when Connor entered the kitchen, still in his (stolen) sleep shirt and boxers. 

 

“That your new thing?” Hank asked nonchalantly through a spoonful of cereal. Apparently, he’d been around Connor long enough to not be worried about sexual apperati on the table before 8:30 in the morning. 

 

“Yes,” Connor said, moving to the table, watching the box as though it might disappear at any moment. He moved to sit in the chair next to Hank, LED spinning yellow. “I hadn’t thought it would arrive so early.” 

 

“Yeah, was sitting on the porch when I let Sumo out earlier. I’m almost done.” Hank tipped back his cereal bowl and finished off the remaining milk, before standing to put the bowl in the sink. “I’ll go brush my teeth, you take that down to th’ bedroom, I’ll be there soon.” 

 

Connor blinked, once, twice. “I’m sorry- What, Lieutenant?” 

 

Hank blinked right back as he walked back towards the table, pushing the box towards Connor. “You take that, I’ll go brush my teeth, and we’ll take this thing for a spin, how ‘bout that, Con?” Hank said slowly, as though Connor had just woken from stasis. Which he had, but that wasn’t the reason for his tentativeness. 

 

Connor felt the blue blush rising on his cheeks, and he got to his feet and picked up the box as he went. Without saying a word, Connor about-faced and walked down towards the bedroom, blushing deeper at Hank’s chuckle behind him. 

 

“Be down in just a minute, Connor!” Hank called after him, just before Connor slammed the bedroom door, not responding. As soon as the door was shut, Connor leaned against it and groaned into his hands, trying to calm the blush on his face. 

 

After sighing, Connor set the box down on the bed and began to strip, folding his clothes and placing them next to the box as he went.. Once his boxers were neatly placed on the bed, Connor looked down at himself, then began to deactivate the skin around his groin. 

 

Hank didn’t have a mirror in his bedroom, so Connor ran through the process on his limited eyesight alone, deactivating the pseudo-skin on the apparatus and in the surrounding area, draining the thiruim from his default attachment and finally detaching it.

 

Connor held his own dick in his hand, and thought, not for the first time, about the difference between himself and Hank. After all, Hank couldn’t exactly detach his own penis if he so pleased. Disregarding that, Connor set the apparatus down on the bedspread and opened up the box.

 

The new apparatus sits squarely in the center of the box, prim and proper despite the fact that it is a genital attachment. It looks much like Connor’s default attachment, though noticeably thicker, just a tad longer, the tip made of a softer material. Connor knows the exact custom specifications, still has the schematics hidden away in his mind palace. 

 

Hank hadn’t wanted to give his input, despite the facts that he’d be the one…”using” it, and that Connor had wanted it. Connor replays the memory in his head, hears for the hundredth time, “ _ It’s your decision, Connor. I don’t want you to base it on what you think I’ll like, I want  _ **_you_ ** _ to like it. I’m gonna like it no matter what, even if you choose to get a fucking blue tentacle. Just means that we have options.” _

 

Connor always blushes when he considers the meaning behind those words, the care. Hank had hesitated before he’d spoken, then thrown all caution to the wind and spoke his mind, in true Lieutenant Hank Anderson fashion. Connor wouldn’t want it any other way.

 

Connor lifts the new dick out of the box and attaches it to the port in his crotch, watching as the white plastic glows as it interfaces with his inner systems, as the thirium begins to flow into it, his pseudo-skin appearing over the surface, the silicone tip swallowed up by creamy skin. Connor notes with curious interest that the coloration is a little different than his first one- There’s a smattering of freckles near the base, and Connor wonders if the appearance changes with each attachment, from model to model. Perhaps Connor will have to test his theory further…

 

Connor hears a low whistle from the door, turns to find Hank watching him with a hungry look in his eye. Connor turns to face him, fingers twisting at his sides, anxious. 

“Do you like it, Hank?” Connor knows the answer already, but the confirmation will help ease the feelings overwhelming his thirium pump. 

 

“You look so fuckin’ beautiful, Connor.” Hank breathes, stepping into the room proper. “You always do,” He continues, eyes roving pale, freckled skin before meeting Connor’s gze. Hank steps closer still, gently takes Connor by the nape of his neck and kisses him soft, his other hand cupping his cheek. 

 

Connor melts into the embrace, core heating up form Hank’s earnest praise praise. He loops his arms around Hank’s broad shoulders, mumbles between sweet kisses, “You’re beautiful too.”

 

Hank chuckles, smiling against Connor’s parted lips. Connor opens his eyes to find Hank gazing at him with love in his eyes and Connor knows that he’s spoken the truth. 

 

“Whatever you say, Con,” Hank murmurs, closing his eyes and kissing Connor again. A long moment passed with the two sharing this wonderful feeling, their passion and breaths caught between them. 

 

Breaking their embrace, Hank gently pushes Connor down to sit on the edge of the bed, his gaze falling lower and lower to meet the apex of Connor’s legs. 

 

Hank drops to his knees, and Connor lifts a hand to card through Hank’s hair. He can’t help the flush of arousal and love that floods through him at the sight- Hank is beautiful, especially like this, and Connor will tell him so until this wonderful creature before him believes it. 

 

Hank kisses around it, slow, caring, but it’s not enough, and they both know it. Connor sighs, rocks his hips forward, and Hank presses his free hand into Connor’s hips and keeps him pinned to the bed. It’s exciting to Connor that Hank can overpower him like this, and he won’t lie, it’s  _ arousing _ being at Hank’s mercy. 

 

Hank presses his lips to the tip, and Connor groans unexpectedly, thirium pump fluttering. The sensation of the new attachment is like feeling Hank’s touch for the first time all over again, hot and soft and  _ wonderful _ . The sensors that feed into his programming were in new spots, and Connor wanted Hank to find all of them, just like he had before. 

 

Hank glanced up at him, his lips moving against the tip of Connor’s twitching cock. “You okay, Con?” He asked, going absolutely still. Connor almost whines at the sudden stop of that little sensation, and Connor tugs at Hank’s hair, wanting to guide him back onto his dick as he says, near panting already-

 

“Don’t stop, Hank, it’s-  _ so good.  _ Please,  _ please _ , keep going- Ah!” Connor jolts when Hank sucks the tip back into his mouth, tongue pressing against the underside of the head, and there is another one of those delicious little spots.

 

Connor falls back on the bed when Hank hallows his cheeks, and then bucks up against Hank’s hands as the motion only serves to drive his dick further into that warm mouth. Connor’s hands curl at his sides, and as if Connor weren’t already close enough to shake himself apart, Hank squeezes his palm around the shaft not in his mouth. 

 

“Hank, Hank, can you please- oh,  _ oh _ -” Connor covers his mouth with both hands to stifle the moan that tears itself from his vocal processors as Hank dips his head down, down, all the way down to the base. The moans and groans escape anyway, and Connor thrashes when he feels Hank swallow around him, his tip cushioned by warm, wet walls. 

 

Connor’s so close, all of Hank’s teasing driving him towards this feeling, this delicious sensation, and Connor can’t help buck his hips up against Hank’s strong grip, chasing his end. 

 

“Haaaank- Hank, oh, I- I’m gonna-” Connor does his best to choke out a warning, tries to lift his head to see Hank, only to be met with the sight of Hank hollowing his cheeks and lifting one of his eyebrows, as if asking  _ “So?” _

 

Connor spasms, and everything goes white once more, and before he even comes down from that high, Connor wants to fuck Hank within an inch of his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This got grossly romantic in there, and I am not sorry. 
> 
> I know that these have been super late (look at the date) but I wanna keep going with these, even after October. Damn it, I am finishing Kinktober this year!


	7. Day 7 - Lap Dance (A continuation of Day 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's still got his programming from his time at Eden Club, and Hank is more than willing to let him have his wicked way with him.
> 
> Content: Lap Dances, mentions of android programming, and one of my favorite Ariana Grande songs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I said *this year*, but life, college, yadda yadda yadda. So, let's see if I can finish this before Kinktober 2019, huh? Enjoy!!!

It’s damn hard to reprogram androids.

 

Unless you’ve got the special equipment, programs and a specific override code, it’s damn hard to reprogram androids. They can download new programming, of course, but to reprogram them from scratch simply isn’t an option for most resellers, outside of Cyberlife themselves.

 

That information in mind, Hank isn’t particularly surprised when a shirtless Connor pushes him down onto the couch, and music starts to play from his ancient record player- Connor must have rigged it to start, it doesn’t interface or have a timer or anything fancy. He is surprised, however, to hear Ariana Grande begin singing- It’d been a while since Hank had looked through his collection, apparently.

 

_Don’t need permission_

_Made my decision_

_To test my limits~_

 

“What are ya doing, Connor?” Hank asks, an eyebrow raised, knowing full damn well the intention in Connor’s eye. Connor just smiles, cryptically, wickedly, and leans forward to kiss him, to whisper against his lips-

 

“Just sit back and relax, _Hank._ ”

 

Hank settles back, hands off his lap, giving Connor free reign. “Whatever you say, Connor,” Hank says, hardly above a whisper. Something in his chest flutters when he sees Connor smile, genuine and excited. To see him so open like this, still so new at this whole “human” thing, but Hank loves to watch him, and it’s easy to see that Connor still enjoys putting on a show.

 

_‘Cause it’s my business_

_God as my witness_

_Start what I finished~_

 

Connor began to rock his hips, hands tracing up and down Hank’s chest. Hank shivered at the light touches combined with the weight of Connor atop his lap, hands curling in their desire to touch him right back.

  


_Don’t need no holdup_

_Takin’ control of_

_This kinda moment~_

 

Connor mouthed along to the words, letting his arms trail up his own chest, past his collarbone and his head, pausing for just a moment to run his fingers through his hair before stretching out his arms, arching his back and putting his lithe chest on display. Hank was practically salivating, and when Connor looked back at him with half-lidded eyes framed by long, dark lashes, biting his lower lip, and Hank couldn’t help the spike of arousal shot through his core.

 

_I’m locked and loaded,_

_Completely focused_

_My mind is open_

 

_All that you got, skin to skin, oh my God,_

_Don’t you stop, boy~!_

 

Connor began twirling his hips in figure-eights, and Hank just about lost it. He lost his restraint and moved to place his hands on Connor’s rocking hips, but the android atop him was faster than he was, much faster, and had his wrists pinned above his head before Hank could blink.

 

Connor simply smirked and leaned down to whisper in Hank’s ear, just barely audible over the music, low and full of promise, _“Behave.”_

 

_Somethin’ ‘bout you_

_Makes me feel like a dangerous woman_

_Somethin’ ‘bout, somethin’ ‘bout,_

_Somethin’ ‘bout you_

_Makes me wanna do things that I shouldn’t_

_Somethin’ ‘bout, somethin’ ‘bout, somethin’ ‘bout~!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!! Chapter 8 will be longer, I swear. And yes, I will be continuing this, don't you worry!! See you lovelies soon~


	8. Day 8 - Bondage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Hank discovers that Connor has several ideas for the use of handcuffs when they’re off duty.
> 
> Alright, so, I'm not hugely into bondage meself, but hey, they're cops. Exactly what else were they going to use?
> 
> Warnings: Minor somnophilia (Hank wakes up after he gets cuffed), use of handcuffs, Hank is petty, Connor gives good massages.

Hank’s been a heavy sleeper his whole life, but the feeling of not being able to move is enough to wake him from his slumber. He blinks his eyes open hazily, and his bedroom is still dark, but he can see the silhouette of Connor leaning over him, eyes adjusting to the light of his LED, a sky blue circle at his temple. Hank smiles tiredly and reaches for him, completely forgetting that he-

 

He can’t move.

 

That alone has Hank on high alert, and it’s hard to focus when he’s still this out of it, but Hank’s training comes to him as second nature. His eyes dart around the room, trying to assess the situation. His arms are pulled above his head and there’s something around his wrists, metal and cold. Hank knows what they are immediately.

 

“Connor-” His name comes out cracking, voice still groggy from sleep. “Did you fucking cuff me?!”

 

“Good evening, Lieutenant. Yes, I did. You appeared to be having a nightmare.” Connor says, in the same level voice that he gave a report to Hank early that morning, his LED a curious, wicked yellow to match the smile on his face. “I was forced to restrain you so you wouldn’t hurt yourself, _Hank_.”

 

Hank, for once, feels like the prey and not the predator. The last time he felt like this was when that deviant tried to push him off the roof, and this time he can’t even hang on. His hands clench around nothing, wrists twisting against the cuffs, but Connor must have done something to keep them to the headboard so he can’t do anything but struggle.

 

“Connor, what the fuck-” Hank can feel his heart speeding up, can see Connor tilt his head, scanning him. This is too fucking crazy for this late at night. Had he even had a nightmare at all? Was he still dreaming?

 

Why was this so _hot?_

 

“I won’t let you go until your heart rate has returned to resting levels, Lieutenant, for your own health.”

 

“Connor, don’t you even fuckin’ start when _you_ cuff a guy while he’s sleeping-” Hank starts, but Connor leans forward, an echo of a mechanical smile on his face, looking downright _dangerous_.

 

“I will repeat myself, Hank. I _won’t_ let you go until your heart rate has returned to _resting_ _levels_ , Lieutenant.”

 

Well. Shit.

 

Huffing out a sigh, Hank lets his head drop back on the pillow. He tries straining against the handcuffs again, but Connor grabs Hank’s cheeks and yanked him forward, his lips squished in an ungraceful pucker and his shoulders straining in their sockets.

 

“I dislike repeating myself, _Hank._ ” Connor’s voice is low and layered with a thinly-veiled threat.  

 

Hank just sputters, his breathing and heart rate decidedly _anything_ but resting. Finally, Connor relents and lets go of Hank’s face, and Hank holds his head up, craning his neck, trying to get a read on Connor. Unfortunately, the bastard has resumed his stoic, smiling persona and Hank curses the fact that he was made with suspect interrogation as a main focus. He’s probably got a read on whatever hormones are currently pumping through his veins, the effect of the stress on his heart, everything. Hank knows that Connor knows his own limits just as well as he does by now, but God, It’s still a leap of faith.

 

Scowling at Connor as best he can, Hank drops his head back against the pillow again and glares at the ceiling. If Connor wants his heart rate down, then Hank will make it take as long as he physically can, just to fucking spite him. So, he _doesn’t_ even out his breathing, he _doesn’t_ count back from 10, and he _doesn’t_ do any of the other crap that’s supposed to help you calm down. HIs hands twist into fists and he tries straining his wrists against the cuffs again, just to spite Connor further.

 

Connor, of course, picks up on Hank’s attitude immediately. “Now, Hank,” He starts, voice carefully level, but Hank only picks up on the mechanical quality of it over his accelerated breathing. “There’s no need to be stubborn. This is for your own good.”

 

And _that_ just pisses Hank off more. “Like hell,” He mutters under his breath, glaring at the wall and refusing to meet Connor’s eyes. He continues to petulantly do so as Connor leans over him, huffing like a spoiled child not getting what he wants.

 

What he doesn’t expect is for Connor’s hands to begin digging into the meat of his shoulders, strong fingers pressing at the knotted muscle there, and Hank damn near melts already. It’s not fuckin’ fair how Connor can get him to relax like this, using the fact that he keeps his stress in his shoulders against him. Hank tenses up and tries to ignore the magic Connor’s working with his fingers, but it only helps Connor’s case, and allows him to get even further into one particularly tricky knot on his right shoulder. Connor’s thumbs dig into the junction between his neck and shoulders and Hank knows he’s a goner.

 

Knowing that this is yet another fight he won’t win, Hank finally sighs and lets his breathing slow, lets his eyes drift close as Connor keeps working at him. He can practically hear the smug pride in Connor’s chuckle but he’s not too worried about it because this is actually the most relaxed he’s been in a while, despite the fact that Connor is practically sitting atop his chest and his dick is registering its interest from inside his boxers. So what if he’s past 50? Connor makes him pitch a tent like he’s a teenager again, and it never seems to take much effort on the android’s part.

 

So Hank lets Connor do what he wants with him, but tries to be as active a partner as he can with his hands above his head, lets his eyes trace Connor’s figure, lets his gaze rest appreciatively on the chest that’s just about eye level, the synthetic skin under his stolen sleep shirt just as captivating as where it sneaks out under his collar. Hank wants to mark up that pale neck, wants to bruise the peach-pink pseudo-skin and the white-blue marble underneath.

 

He’d gladly be woken up like this every once in a while for a chance at the android perched on his lap. The self-same android who would wake him up with gentle kisses- not unlike the pecks he’s started to place on Hank’s tender neck, his fingers yielding to the claiming of his lips and teeth, the unspoken promise of Hank getting fucked just like this, Connor’s lips on his neck and his cock buried deep in his ass, pressed between heated skin.

 

_Yeah,_ Hank thinks, just before he stops thinking all together, _Maybe there’s something to this whole handcuff thing after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this being so short, but this is the compromise for me actually keeping updates going on this series. I want to finish this, I really do! But I as a writer have a problem wherein I can't write porn uness there's three pages of buildup first. Someone please help me. In the memetime, I hope you enjoyed! See you lovelies soon~ (Oh, and? There's to be more bottom!Hank in the next installment!)


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